


30 Minutes

by doctor__idiot



Series: Tumblr Prompts [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prompt Fill, Rimming, Shower Sex, Top Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 05:08:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10937640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctor__idiot/pseuds/doctor__idiot
Summary: “How am I doing on time?”





	30 Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: Shower sex. 
> 
> I'm so fucking late with this, don't look at me.

As soon as Sam starts rubbing shampoo into his hair, the spray of the shower beating hot again his back, he hears the door to the bathroom open.

“You order pizza yet?” he asks with his eyes closed against the lather, knowing his brother even blind and at a distance.

The door to the shower stall slides to the side and Dean steps into the tub with him, smelling heady, like sweat and earth and dried blood. Not his own, this time.

“Yeah. Thirty minutes till it’s here.”

Sam tips his head back into the spray, rinsing out the shampoo, then clears the water from his eyes. Dean’s green gaze is on him and he reaches out to hook his hands behind the nape of Dean’s neck.

“And I bet you’ve already got a plan how we could spend those thirty minutes.”

Dean flashes him a white-toothed grin. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

He reaches up to stroke some left-over shampoo out of Sam’s hair. Sam pulls him closer, wrapping his arm around his shoulders, leaning into the touch. Dean then twirls a strand of hair around his finger and tugs lightly but with clear intent. 

His eyes hold a challenge and Sam almost laughs out loud. Instead, he dips down those couple of inches and kisses Dean, gently at first but it turns more passionate soon. He turns them mid-kiss and presses Dean back against the shower wall.

Dean’s chuckle is low, clearly amused. “You’ve got twenty-five minutes now.”

Sam grins right back. “Oh, and you think that’s a challenge, do you?”

“Is it?” Dean’s raised eyebrow is nothing short of mocking and Sam says, “Fine. Your way,” and manhandles Dean until his cheek and chest are pressed against the wet wall and Sam can stretch out against his back, press his half-hard cock against the cleft of Dean’s ass.

Dean laughs but it sounds strained, a little breathless. He braces himself against the slippery tiles and cants his hips back at the same time as Sam sinks to his knees.

He’s got both palms on his brother’s hips, thumbs spreading the cheeks of Dean’s ass so he can get in between, press his mouth against the sensitive opening. His tongue flicks out and Dean moans, his thighs trembling a little against Sam’s hold. 

Sam licks him open with practiced ease, alternating quick kitten-licks with insistent swipes of his tongue. He sucks on the rim to relax the muscle, coaxing it soft and pliant. Dean slumps against the wall, shaking more and more, and keeps pushing his hips back.

He says something that Sam doesn’t catch. He leans back. “What was that?”

“I said,” Dean returns with a gasp, entirely out of breath. “‘s fifteen minutes now.”

Sam barks an involuntary laugh, “Oh, it’s on,” and rises to his feet.

He wraps one arm around Dean’s waist, tugging him away from the wall and grabs for the bottle of conditioner he hasn’t even used on his hair yet.

Dean twitches away from Sam’s slicked-up fingers when he teases them over Dean’s hole. 

“No,” he says, “Just you.”

“You sure?” Sam leans down to press a kiss against the back of Dean’s shoulder but he’s already got his fingers around his own cock, lubing it up with the sticky liquid. 

“Yeah. I’m good.”

Conditioner is really not ideal but it’s what they’ve got right now and if the way Dean tilts his hips back is any indication, he doesn’t seem to mind. Sam nudges his hips forward, tip of his cock pressing against Dean’s still-tight entrance.

He surges forward with a gasp, not sure whether it comes from him or Dean but it doesn’t matter much, inching his dick past the firm clench of the reluctant muscle until his groin is pressed flush with Dean’s ass and they’re both panting, heads turned away from the gush of the shower.

Sam kisses behind Dean’s ear, lets his tongue flick out against the shell of it, while keeping his hips entirely still. Which might just be the hardest thing he’s ever had to do.

“How am I doing on time?”

Dean gives a breathy laugh and shifts against him, wiggling his hips a little. “You’re doing fine. If you actually start moving soon.”

There is no bite in the words and Sam stretches to kiss the corner of Dean’s mouth, feeling it turn up against his lips. He pulls back, drawing a simultaneous groan from the both of them. 

He supports himself with one palm against the wall and braces his foot against the edge of the tub to gain some leverage, guiding Dean’s hip into every one of his thrusts. It’s a little precarious and Dean keeps slipping in the water at the bottom of the tub, until Sam wraps his arms around him again, keeping them both upright.

Dean’s breaths are mostly drowned out by the water but his moans and all those small hiccough-y whimpers he makes every time Sam applies pressure on his prostrate are clearly audible.

Sam nuzzles the back of Dean’s neck, keeps licking, kissing, and nipping along his shoulders, thumbing over his nipples and letting the nail catch, until Dean shakes against him, gasps “Sam,” as a warning, and Sam shushes him. Braces his shoulder against the wall of the too-narrow shower stall and wraps a hand around Dean’s dick, working him with almost lazy strokes, and Dean jerks against him.

Sam savors every sound, every lewd noise he manages to wring from his brother and stops holding back when Dean’s climax spills sticky-white over his hand, instantly washed clean by the water. Dean’s shaky fingers settle on Sam’s hip, wordlessly urging him to keep going.

The tight clench around his cock and the flutter of aftershocks make Sam moan into the back of Dean’s neck. He snaps his hips one, two, three more times and presses his forehead between Dean’s shoulder blades as his balls draw tight with the need for release, his breath hitching fast as he comes.

He holds Dean against him, both arms tight around his middle now, while they just breathe together, Sam’s chest heaving against Dean’s back and Dean’s abdominals quivering against Sam’s palms.

Dean drops his head back against Sam’s shoulder and Sam catches his mouth in a breathless kiss that’s going to put a crick in both their necks. 

His lips brush Dean’s cheek when he huffs a tired laugh. “Wow.”

Dean turns his head toward Sam and Sam can feel his mouth stretch into a grin against his own his jaw.

The water has cooled considerably and after another moment, Sam nudges his brother. “You ready to get out?”

Dean hums. “We didn’t even really clean up, did we?”

Sam grins and says, “Come on,” turning off the shower, earning himself a disgruntled noise from Dean when cool air hits overheated skin.

They towel themselves dry perfunctorily, legs still too shaky, and then there is a short rap of knuckles at the front door of the motel room.

“Pizza’s five minutes late,” Dean remarks while Sam wraps his towel around his hips to answer the knock.

“Some very crucial five minutes, don’t you think?” he shoots back, already halfway out of the bathroom, and laughs out loud when Dean’s damp towel hits him in the back with a smack.


End file.
